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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731909">Studying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayla/pseuds/Samayla'>Samayla</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Care Fic Requests - for when life is a lot [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Reader-Insert, School Work, Studying, un-gendered reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:28:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,231</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28731909</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samayla/pseuds/Samayla</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a little self-care ficlet for an anon over on tumblr, who wondered how the sons of Gondor might help them get through their schoolwork.</p><p>Everything is a lot right now, so I had this idea to create little scenes in which your favorite characters help you do whatever it is that's giving you trouble lately. Requests are open here in the comments, or over at samayla.tumblr.com</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Care Fic Requests - for when life is a lot [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106324</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Studying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stare at the heap of books and scrolls in front of you, but it doesn’t get any smaller.</p><p>“It’s not that bad,” you mutter firmly, screwing your eyes shut. “I just have to start.” You take a deep breath and open your eyes, but the pile is still there, still enormous, and you still can’t bring yourself to wade into it. “I’m being ridiculous. The sooner I start, the sooner I’ll be done.” You know it, but that knowledge does not help matters in the slightest. It only makes you feel guilty for letting it get this bad in the first place.</p><p>A hand on your shoulder makes you jump.</p><p>“Peace, Y/N,” Faramir exclaims, backing away with his hands raised.  </p><p>“It’s alright,” you gasp as your heart rate slows again. “I thought everyone else had gone.”</p><p>“Most of them have gone out to enjoy the last of the sunshine, but I prefer the library when it is less crowded.”</p><p>“I can leave,” you offer hastily, already starting to gather your things.</p><p>“Peace,” Faramir repeats with a warm smile. “I only came over to ask whether you required any assistance. You seem upset.”</p><p>You smile awkwardly. “No, I’m just, you know, mustering the energy…” You wave a hand at the general disarray on the table. “With so much to do, it’s hard to decide where to start.”</p><p>“I see. I will leave you to it.” He starts to leave, but then turns back suddenly. “Actually, Y/N, this might sound strange — and the last thing I would wish to do is offend you — but this rather reminds me of when our tutors would try to get Boromir and I to sit for our lessons when we were younger.”</p><p>“Oh. Um…”</p><p>Faramir settles into the chair across from you. “Boromir never had the patience for this sort of work, you see. He’d much rather be outside, playing or training or exploring. He’d leave all his work until the last minute, and then actually doing it would be such a horrible experience, well, it wouldn’t make him exactly eager to get a jump on it the next time.”</p><p>You nod, this startling image of the beloved first son of the citadel shielding you from any embarrassment you might otherwise feel in such a conversation. If Boromir had begun like this, then perhaps there was hope for you as well. “How did he get through it?” you ask, trying not to sound too desperate.</p><p>“We had one history tutor who turned it into a battle of sorts, something to be conquered with skill and cunning.”</p><p>“Oh.” You don’t feel particularly skilled or cunning. You feel slow and dull and guilty.</p><p>Faramir seems to read your feelings. “Y/N, if you will permit me, I would be happy to show you what I mean.”</p><p>You shrug miserably. It can’t make matters worse.</p><p>Faramir smiles encouragingly. “Then, why don’t you visit the kitchen for a bite to eat, or at least a glass of water, while I arrange things for us?”</p><p>And you escape, glad of the respite. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>You return to the library to find that Faramir has spread your heap of books and scrolls and loose papers into a dozen smaller piles that fill one of the large reading tables. It looks like more work than ever, but Faramir greets you and smiles encouragingly as he pulls out your chair. You sit warily, nearly ready to cry at the sight of how much you have to do. If this was meant to make this into a better experience, it’s failing miserably.</p><p>“This is your battleground,” Faramir says. “Your task is to reclaim the table from your foes. Pick the easiest pile.”</p><p>“I feel like I should be doing the hardest first,” you protest. “That’s what’s going to take the most time.”</p><p>Faramir shakes his head and sits in the chair opposite you. “Every foe here must be conquered, and a foothold in their territory will help you gain traction. Pick the easiest task.”</p><p>You survey the options, certain he is wrong. Just the sight of the one massive pile of scrolls in the corner of the table makes you feel guilty, but you humor him. You lift a light sheaf of papers from the middle of the table and settle back into your chair. It’s definitely an easy one — a short text to review before tomorrow’s lessons.</p><p>“And so your campaign begins.”</p><p>Faramir reads his own book to pass the time while you skim through the papers. The topic is at least vaguely interesting, and you are finished before you know it.</p><p>Faramir grins as you look up and set the papers aside. “Finished?”</p><p>You nod and sigh as you turn back to face the rest of the mess still on the table. Sure, you’re done with one tiny piece, but there’s still so much more to do. You feel panic wellling in your chest, but Faramir’s hand is warm on your shoulder once more. “Look,” he says gently. “You’ve made a hole in their ranks already.” And you have. In amongst all the little stacks and piles of work, is a bare patch of scarred tabletop. “Can you make another?”</p><p>You nod shakily, torn between childish embarrassment and abject gratitude for his patience.</p><p>Faramir is vigilant, and he sees the tangle of emotions cross your face before you can hide them. “You did that, Y/N. All on your own. You can do this.”</p><p>Your heart is racing as you lift another pile from the table and set it in front of yourself. This one takes a little longer, requiring some note-taking in addition to the reading, but when you’re done, there are two empty patches of table before you. There are still so many other piles, but —</p><p>“I recommend that one next,” says a deeper voice from behind you. You whirl to see Boromir pointing to a precarious tower of scrolls near the far edge of the table. “If you can fight your way straight across here, you can divide their forces.”</p><p>Faramir shuts his book with a sigh. “I would have suggested Y/N take out their archers next,” he argues, pointing out a book that keeps snagging your attention every time you glance up. Your arithmetic tutor will have your head if you show up to his lesson empty-handed again. “They clearly pose the greatest threat.”</p><p>Boromir moves around the table, studying the work laid out on it like it really is a miniature battlefield. Faramir sets his book aside and joins him. By the time the brothers stop their good-natured bickering, you’ve taken out the archers and divided the forces remaining on the table, and you feel ready to take on that dreaded pile of scrolls in the corner.</p><p>“Are you sure?” Faramir asks as you drag the whole heap toward yourself.</p><p>“Time to cut the head off this snake,” you declare. “Then I’ll pick off the remaining battalions before they can regroup under a new leader.”</p><p>Boromir laughs. “That’s the spirit! Come along, brother,” he says, throwing an arm around Faramir’s shoulders. “I think your work here is done!”</p><p>Faramir ducks out from under his older brother’s arm. “Only because Y/N is a quicker study than you ever were.” He winks at you and collects his book, and then the two of them depart, still bickering cheerfully.</p>
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